How Mr Gold got cajoled into wearing a Santa costume
by griseldalafey
Summary: The title pretty much summarizes it. This is a Fluffy McFluff Christmas Edition. AU/Non-curse
1. Chapter 1

**How Mr. Gold got cajoled into wearing a Santa costume**

_Rated_: T  
_Pairings_: Gold/Belle  
_Disclaimer:_ It could not be less mine. Once Upon a Time belongs to Adam Horowitz and Eddy Kitsis, ABC and Disney. This disclaimer applies for the whole story.  
_Spoilers_: None  
_Genre_: Humor/ Romance

**Part I**

The library was decorated festively with wreaths and paper stars and a large christmas tree in the center of the main area. Leaning against one of the reading tables, he watched how Belle put the children's book away before joining him, smiling at the sight of his son Bae at the story table, enthusiastically re-enacting the story she'd been reading out loud only minutes ago.

"He's really into superhero's at the moment, isn't he?" she asked.

"Can't get enough of them," he agreed. "Those bloody action figures are all over the house and one of these days he's actually going to take someone out with the karate kicks he's practicing all the time."

"WHO-YA!" Just then Bae launched his plastic super hero miniature from tower build out of blocks unto a smaller, more demolished looking figure belonging to the same set.

"He insisted on coming to story-hour, so I suppose they serve some kind of educational purpose," he finished with a slight smirk.

"Anything to get them interested in reading," Belle replied with a grin of her own.

Truth to be told, Bae's preference for story-hour served him rather well. After his nasty divorce a little over a year ago, it was rather enjoyable to spend some time with one of the few people in Storybooke who didn't look upon him with rage-inducing pity or cold indifference.

Had it been only two years since his now ex-wife had run off with a biker named Killian Jones? Leaving him and more importantly their now five year old son behind without any intention of ever coming back? It wasn't so much the fact that Milah had left him that still had him seething. Although admittedly, it had stung his ego a bit, their marriage had been in trouble for years. Had never been a very solid one to begin with. After all, they only tied the knot because Milah had been pregnant.

For his part, it had been unplanned, but certainly not unwelcome. He hadn't exactly been a spring chicken anymore - in fact, Bae had been born three days after his forty-first birthday - and he jumped at the opportunity of becoming a father.  
Milah had expressed the wish of getting married when she'd found out she was pregnant and he'd been willing to do anything to do right by his child. And providing him with a stable home had seemed like the right thing at the time.

He had certainly loved Milah and although their characters tended to clash regularly, he'd thought they could make it work.

Until Killian Jones came along, planting all sorts of ludicrous ideas into Milah's head about adventures and big romance. It wasn't until she'd left he truly realized how bored and unsatisfied Milah had been with their life.  
Perhaps that was what stung most of all.

Still, he'd been determined to win sole custody over Bae, mainly because he didn't trust Jones any further than he could throw him. Which eventually he had managed, but it had been a horrible, endlessly dragged out, vicious trial, that had left him more bitter and cynical than he'd been before.

There had been precious few bright spots in the hell hole that had been the past two years, but Belle French had certainly been one of them.

She'd moved to Storybooke right after Christmas last year, just as he'd dived into court proceedings securing single parental authority over Bae. She'd been appointed as the new librarian and within months she'd made quite an impression on the stalwart inhabitants of the town. She was liked wherever she went and had quickly become deeply involved in the town happenings.

She had turned his weekly visits with Bae to the library into something he was actually looking forward to. She could hold a conversation, she was intelligent and well-read and she was easy to talk to.

And she laughed at his quips. Which had ultimately been the thing that had drawn him towards her the most. She actually _got_ him, whereas most people didn't even notice he was joking and just assumed he was a cynical bastard.

But Belle French shared his humor and even paid him back in kind.

As the months wore on and the custody battle got more and more heinous, he found that a brief visit to the library - usually under the pretense that Bae wanted to pick out some new books - and a chat with her did wonders to his mood.

And it didn't hurt that she was a very beautiful woman as far as he was concerned. Dark, dancing curls, white porcelain skin, ruby red, smiling lips that begged to be kissed and the most stunning large, blue eyes he had ever seen.

He was a little infatuated with her, he would allow himself that. But he had sternly restricted himself: he could look, but not touch.

He'd gotten enough 'romance' to last him a lifetime.

* * *

"Are you having Emma over?" Belle's voice startled him out of his mussing and his eyes swept from his playing son to the twiggy girl curled up in a rocking chair at the kids' corner, his gaze turning worried.

Emma Nolan was Bae's closest friend from his kindergarten class and they often spend time together after school. He had worked out a sort of arrangement with Emma's parents, David and Mary Margaret Nolan, were they would look after each other's kids regularly.

"Yes, Bae invited her to play and Mary Margaret thought it would be good for her… apparently she's been out of sorts for the past few days," he said thoughtfully.

"She seems a little downcast," Belle agreed, eyeing the normally spunky five-year-old with a small frown.

"Actually…" she paused, taking another good look at the girl who was sitting with her arms wrapped around her raised knees, staring dejectedly into nothing, "…she looks really unhappy."

Just then Bae ran over to them. "Dad, can I pick out some books to take home?"

"Of course you can," His father replied, before prompting gently, "Why don't you ask Emma if she'll help you find some really good ones?"

"Emma doesn't want to do anything," Bae answered with a shrug. "She's being boring."

Well, there was nothing like a child's brutal honesty.

"Bae…" He crouched down to his son's level. "Do you know what's bothering Emma? She's been sad all afternoon."

Bae shrugged again, looking decidedly uncomfortable now. "I'm not supposed to tell…" He finally admitted reluctantly. "Emma said I couldn't say a word…"

"About what, son?" His voice was turning sharp, real worry settling in now.

Unfortunately this only managed to spook his son further. "I promised her I wouldn't tell… you always say I should keep my promises…" A pair of brown eyes were pleading with him and Gold heaved a sigh, forcing himself to calm down and talk placidly to his boy.

"Bae… we've talked about the difference between a good secret and a bad secret. A bad secret shouldn't be kept a secret because someone will end up getting hurt. And I think Emma is hurting right now. So what did she tell you?"

"She didn't tell me anything really…" Bae started, looking relieved to be allowed to talk now. "She just asked me if… she asked me if mom left us because she was kissing another man…"

Gold's brow frowned in puzzlement, slowly digesting the words, careful not to betray any emotion to Bae. "And what did you say?"

"I told her she did… " Anxiety and confusion was written all over the boy's features. "Well… it's true isn't it? Shouldn't I have said that?"

"Oh no, Bae, you did nothing wrong," he was quick to reassure the child, a nasty suspicion settling in the pit of his stomach. "Do you know why Emma asked you that question?"

Bae shook his head hesitantly. "No… she didn't say anything after that… but she's been weird ever since."

"Okay…" He rose slowly, ruffling his son's hair. "You did the right thing by telling me, son. Go and pick out your books hmm… I need to talk to Belle for a second…"

With the unnerving flexibility of a young child, Bae turned around and ran off to the children's book section, instantly forgetting all about the talk he just had.  
Gold however turned towards Belle, a grim expression on his face.

"You don't really think…" Belle started, her face pale and her eyes wide with horror. "You don't really think Mary Margaret is seeing someone else?"

He scowled, the familiarity of the situation hitting home just a little too close. "Given the fact that she went after David when he was still married to someone else I can't say I'm all that surprised."

"Rumford!" She exclaimed horrified, genuinely angry by his words. "That's a terrible thing to say! Mary Margaret and David fell in love. And his marriage was practically over by the time they met."

He was used to ruffling other people's feathers, but having Belle upset with him didn't sit right with him. So he caved in a tiny bit.

"Look, I hope to the gods that I'm wrong… and I don't care how their relationship came to be. But right now neither of them can think about themselves alone anymore. There's a vulnerable child thrown in the mix… one that is hurting!"

She softened a little and bit her lip thoughtfully. "Let's just go and talk to Emma," she suggested eventually. "Maybe this is about something else entirely."

He nodded warily, not entirely sure if he was the best person around for such a conversation. On the other hand, he was too invested now not to find out what was going on.

Together they made their way over to where Emma was sitting, Belle kneeling down in front of the rocking chair, him lowering himself on a wobbly, three legged, plastic stool.

"Hi Emma," Belle started.

"Hi Belle," Emma parroted tonelessly.

"You seem a little sad today, honey," Belle probed gently. "Is there something wrong."

"No-oo…" Emma hid her face in her arms, in that typical way of a five-year-old;_ If I don't look at you, you might just go away. _

"Emma," Gold tried, a little more firmly. "Bae told me that you asked him if his mom left because she'd been kissing another man. Is that true?"

The blonde head shot up again and Emma nodded haltingly.

"Why did you want to know that?" Belle implored, scooting a little closer to the girl. But Emma just shrugged and pouted a little, stubbornly remaining silent.

Gold decided then that the blunt question would probably gain the best results. In his experience, children were most helped with the truth.

"Do you think your mom has been kissing another man?"

Immediately the girl's eyes filled with tears and she nodded pitifully before whispering: "I saw them…"

"Oh honey…" Belle was around her at once, hugging Emma to her side and Gold felt a cold, white fury overtake him.

"When was this, do you remember?" Belle asked, softly petting Emma's hair.

"Right after the Christmas Cookie Bake at Granny's," Emma hiccuped. "I went out to show mum the cookies I made and then I saw them."

Every year, in the week leading up to Christmas, Granny Lucas hosted a cookie bake event at the diner for all the kids in town. Over the years it had become quite the tradition and it was one of the Christmas events kids in Storybooke looked forward to the most.  
But it looked like christmas cookies were forever spoiled as far as Emma was concerned.

"Do you know who the man was?" Gold asked, deciding there and then that he would give the home-wrecking scoundrel the trashing of a lifetime if he ever got his hands on him.

Suddenly Emma's eyes were ablaze with indignant fury before her shoulders slummed again. "Of course I knew him! Everybody does!" She sniveled and turned her face towards him, the tears starting to roll down over her cheeks.

"My mom was kissing Santa Claus!"

There weren't a great many things that could shock Rumford Gold into total silence, but this proved to be one of them. His eyes bulged and his jaw slacked, his mind frantically re-arranging all the facts in light of this revelation.

Bae had gone to the Cookie Bake as well. Santa had made an appearance, much to the delight of all the kids present and he knew exactly who the Santa had been. Because he had mocked the hell out of David Nolan when he'd heard the man had agreed to put on the suit.

Next to him Belle made a strangled little sound and for the first time in over a year, Gold felt like roaring with laughter.

He bit the inside of his cheek to keep it in. After all, Emma Nolan was genuinely upset and from a child's point of view her distress was completely understandable.

But it was also such a perfect comedy of errors. And one he was going to milk out for every drop it was worth.

He took a few deep breaths, trying to maintain his composure. _'Just don't look at Belle,_' he told himself sternly. '_You'll be fine as long as you don't look at her.' _

"Is my mom going to leave as well, like Bae' mom did?"

Emma's next question sobered him up completely, for which he was partially grateful and he'd never felt so angry with Milah before. How was it possible that the selfish, destructive behavior of one person managed to cause so much havoc?

Belle beat him to answering the question.  
"Oh Emma. You don't have to worry about that, your mom and dad love each other very much."

"Then why was she kissing Santa?" Emma demanded angrily.

Over her head, Belle looked at him, her eyes wide and questioning. '_Was David Santa?'_ she mouthed silently and he nodded imperceptible, making the librarian sigh in relief before rolling her eyes.

"Well, maybe…" Belle started and Gold could practically hear the wheels inside her head turning, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation. "He's _Santa._ A lot of people love him and I bet your mommy does too. Maybe that's why she gave him a kiss."

"It wasn't just a kiss, it was really gross kissing," Emma said flatly.

He bit back another snort and caught Belle's eyes, smiling reassuringly at her rather frantic look.

"Emma, listen to me," he began, leaning closer towards her, making sure she was paying attention. "I know you've got quiet a bit of a shock, but everything is going to be all right and your mom is _not _going to leave you."

"But Bae's mom did…" Emma said with a hitch in her small voice.

"Yes, but Bae's mom didn't kiss Santa," he replied in a dry tone. "Look… Santa brings joy and when people kiss him, nothing bad will happen. Even if it's a mom kissing him. I know you don't really understand right now, but everything will be all right. I promise."

"You do?" Emma asked, her eyes lightening up.

"Cross my heart," he replied solemnly, placing his hand over his heart.

"Dad says you never break a promise," Emma said excitedly, finally stretching out of her curled up position.

"He doesn't," Belle weighted in for good measure. "So you can bet everything will turn out just fine."

He smiled at her vote of confidence and got to his feet, pulling Emma out of the chair as he went. "Bae's picking out some books," he told her. "Why don't you go and make sure it's not only comic books?"

"Okay Mr. Gold," Emma replied, with a hint of her usual cheerfulness back before skipping off.

He turned towards Belle and the grin that had been threatening all along finally spilled over his face and was mirrored in her expression.

"Oh my god, that poor child!" she whispered, the words ending in a barely suppressed giggle.

He threw one look over his shoulder to make sure both Emma and Bae were well out of earshot and then the humor of the situation finally caught up with him. And just as Belle dissolved into laughter, he joined her, feeling years younger because of it.

"Oh goodness… poor David and Mary Margaret though…" Belle managed, clutching her side. "They're going to be mortified!"

"Serves them right," he snorted. "Kissing Santa in broad daylight in the middle of the street… and she's a school teacher for crying out loud!" He was genuinely scandalized by that last bit, but it only made Belle hoot with laughter again.

She was beautiful when she laughed. Her entire face lit up, her eyes sparkled and the sound of her laughter stirred something inside hime he'd previously believed to have died a long time ago. A longing, a want for something she seemed to radiate so effortlessly. Her happiness and joy was infectious and he suddenly wondered what it would be like to be with her. Somehow he couldn't imagine a relationship with her ever turning sour or even boring. Couldn't imagine he would ever get enough of her laughter, her warmth and her liveliness.

He needed to snap out of this or he was going to make a bloody fool of himself.

He cleared his throat, noticing that she had quieted as well, although there was still a residue of humor left in her eyes.

"So, I guess we need to talk to David and Mary Margaret then…" he ventured.

She quirked an eyebrow at him. "We?"

"Well…." He matched her look with a smirk of his own. "Be honest, if you were caught making out with a veteran philanthropist in an unfortunate wardrobe choice, would you want _me_ to be the one to tell you?"

* * *

And so it happened that, after closing the library, Belle tagged along as he drove Emma home. Once inside they were greeted by both David and Mary Margaret, who appeared instantly relieved to see that Emma had somehow lost most of her apathy and was happy to run upstairs with Bae to read their new-found books.

"I'm so glad to see her coming around," Daivd commented. "She's been acting so out of character these last few days."

"Well, she had good reason," Gold replied pointedly.

"Why? Has she told you anything?" Mary Margaret, asked, instantly worried.

"Well…" he drawled, quite ready to inform this picture perfect couple in front of him just what exactly they had put their daughter through, but Belle beat him to it, which, all things considered, was probably for the best.

"Emma went outside on the afternoon of the Christmas Cookie Bake to show you the cookies she's made," she told Mary Margaret in a gentle tone. "Unfortunately as she came out of the diner she saw you kissing Santa. Now _we_ all know David was playing Santa, but she doesn't and she's upset because of it ever since…"

As he could have predicted, Mary Margaret turned scarlet at Belle's words, her eyes bulging in shock.

David just grinned awkwardly.  
"Emma's a smart kid…" he started. "I'm sure she doesn't read too much into it."

It was honestly beyond him how a person could be so dense. "Or your daughter is so smart she went and asked my son if his mother left him because she'd been kissing another man instead and has been drawing her own conclusions from his affirmative answer." Try as he might, he couldn't keep the bite out of his voice.

"What?" David and Mary Margaret exclaimed in unison.

"Emma's been afraid you were going to leave," Belle clarified. "That's why she has been so down the last couple of days."

"Oh my goodness… oh my goodness…" Mary Margaret nervously started to pace the room, bright red spots appearing in her neck. "I admit David and I got rather… frisky… I never thought anyone would see us…"

"In the middle of the street?" he asked incredulously. "In front of the diner?"

"Yes… well…" an aggravated Mary Margaret exclaimed. "David had to return the suit straight away, so it wasn't as if we could go home and…." she trailed off, turning beet red all over again and a shocked silence fell over the living room.

"Santa…? _Really_?" Belle asked with alarmed curiosity.

Mary Margaret tightly closed her eyes shut, looking ready to burst into flames. "Well, it's rather harmless… it's just Santa… and he comes only once a year…."

"You should know, dearie…" Gold quipped under his breath, before he could stop himself and for a moment he feared he'd been just too crude, but than he saw - for a fleeting instant - Belle smirking like the devil and he decided he didn't care.

"All right people," David stated. "We need to fix this. As far as I can see it, there's only one solution: we need to tell Emma the truth. The man in the Santa suit was me and her mother would never run off with Santa because he isn't real to begin with."

He had barely managed to finish his sentence before two angry women rounded up on him. "You want to tell a five-year-old girl that Santa doesn't exist?" Mary Margaret cried out. "That might be the cruelest thing I've ever heard!"

"Telling her that will only upset her more!" Belle interjected, a little more levelly, but equally convinced. "There must be another way."

At this point, he decided, it wast just fun to sit back and watch the Nolans dig themselves out the hole they'd managed to work themselves into.

Until Belle spoke again.

"I have a plan that might work."

"Let's hear it," he said, intending to sound encouraging. In response he got a rather sly smile back. "Oh, you're not going to like this idea at all."

Intrigued, despite an increasing sense of doom building in the pit of his stomach, he leaned forward to listen to her.

"Look, Belle started, "Emma is obviously upset because she's seen her mom kissing Santa Claus and now she's convinced she's going to leave with him. So the only one who can appease her fears is Santa himself. And it wouldn't hurt if her parents were in the same room when that happens."

"You have a point," David conceded. "But where are we going to find a Santa if it can't be me?"

Belle gave him a pointed look and just then Gold caught up and knew what she was plotting.

_And he didn't like it all. _

"No!" He stated firmly. "Not in a million years. That must be the most ludicrous idea I've ever heard… me impersonating Santa…"

Belle just raised her eyebrow at him, her voice deceitfully sweet. "As I recall Mr. Gold, you made a promise to Emma only an hour ago that everything would be all right.  
And from what I understand, Mr. Gold _never_ breaks his promise."

_It should not be so easy for her to reel him in like that. _

"But where am I going to find a Santa costume on such short notice?" he attempted to protest feebly.

"We have one at school you could borrow," Mary Margaret replied instantly. "That won't be a problem at all."

_Of course it won't. _

He'd hate to disappoint Belle, she was looking at him so expectantly. And he did make a promise to Emma. The child didn't deserve a moment's more discomfort. Or to lose a childhood illusion at the tender age of five. And it would be nice to have some leverage over the Nolans, who knew when it might come in handy…

'You'll owe me for the rest of your lives!" he grumbled threateningly, admitting defeat. "And you better help me to come up with a plausible story."

* * *

**The second part should be up soon. In the meantime, please let me know what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Part II**

He was wearing a fat suit.

And a costume made entirely out of a vibrant red, synthetic velours. There were a pair of enormous, unbecoming black boots on his feet and the wide, plastic-pretending-to-be-leather black belt around him only enhanced the fact that he was now easily five times his normal size.

There was a messy, heavy wig on his head, topped by a floopy Santa hat and there was a world of cotton wool glued to his face. It was hot and uncomfortable and he was sweating like a dog.

He was convinced he never looked less appealing in his life.

Belle, who'd helped him with his transformation and had offered to drive him - for which he was grateful, he was sure he wouldn't fit behind the damn steering wheel - was happily chatting away, rehearsing the story they'd agree upon one more time.

Much too quick to his liking they arrived at the Nolans and he was vexed by the sheer amount of trouble it cost him to scramble out of the car.

"You'll be fine," Belle reassured him, stepping up in front of him and fixing the lapels of his costume. "You look great."

He merely scowled at her. At this point, her beaming smile was the one single reason he was going through with this mad idea.

Upon ringing the doorbell, the door flew upon instantly and he was greeted by Mary Margaret's jittery nerves.

"Please come in, Santa," she squeaked. "Make yourself comfortable in the living room. Emma is upstairs with David, she doesn't know you're coming… she'l be so surprised… I'll call her down now…"

To his surprise she appeared rather flustered and suddenly a horrible suspension formed in his mind.

As soon as they were inside the living room and Mary Margaret had run upstairs, he turned towards Belle with an aghast expression on his face.

"This fixation Mary Margaret has with Santa Claus… I hope it is confined to the sight of her _husband_ in a Santa suit?"

In response Belle doubled up with laughter and was still trying to contain her snorts when Mary Margaret returned with Emma and David in tow, the later giving him gleeful smirk. Emma however refused to show any enthusiasm.

"Hello Emma," he started awkwardly, careful to keep his voice deep and his accent fazed out entirely.

In reply he received a look of open hostility from a five-year-old, who sat on the couch, her shoulders hunched, her arms crossed and pouting rather impressively.

"Emma, remember when Mr. Gold promised to help you?" Belle started soothingly. "Well, he asked Santa to come here to clear up a few things for you."

Emma's head snapped up at that. "Mr. Gold can make Santa pay me a visit?" she asked surprised.

"I owed him a favor," Gold replied sardonically, finding his Santa-voice a little easier this time. "Emma, I know that you've been rather upset with me lately."

"You kissed my mom," Emma accused him. "Have you come to take her away now?"

When her lower lip started trembling, he knew that aside from Belle's smile there was another reason he was doing this after all. Slowly lowered himself on the couch next to her.

"Emma," he answered softly and completely serious now. "I would never take your mother away. It wasn't even me you saw that day."

"He looked like you though," Emma replied tearfully.

"Of course he did, because he was wearing my clothes." This was part of the story he had worked out with Belle. "But I would never kiss your mom."

"Then who was it?" Emma asked wide-eyed and intrigued.

"It was your dad," he said simply.

"Dad!" Emma exclaimed, wheeling around to her father who was nodding along encouragingly . "But why were you dressed like Santa?"

"Well, can you keep a secret Emma?" Gold asked, leaning in conspiringly.

When the girl nodded eagerly, all anger and resentment forgotten, he started to explain. "You see, grown-ups, as much as children can write letters to Santa, asking him for what they want. Your father wrote me last month, asking me if he could be Santa for one day. Now you can imagine this time of year can get a bit busy for me… there are so many places I need to be, so many presents to deliver… and my reindeer can only ran so fast…"

Emma was practically bobbing in her seat with excitement now and he was rather relieved she was buying his story so far.  
"I love the Christmas Cookie Bake at Granny's, but this year I knew it would be very difficult for me to attend because there were so many other things for me to do… so when your dad's letter came…"

"I know!" Emma gasped. "You asked him to fill in for you!"

"Exactly," he nodded solemnly. "I send him one of my spare suits and asked him to make an appearance."

"And then my mom kissed him, because she's allowed to kiss my dad…" Emma wrapped up, all the worry finally disappearing from her face.

"Well, actually…" He couldn't resist poking just a little more fun at the Nolan's expense. "Strictly speaking they weren't supposed to be kissing while your dad was pretending to be me. So both your parents started the year off on a very bad note… they'll have to be exceptionally good all year to receive presents next Christmas." He winked at her, eliciting a giggle from the girl. "Maybe you could send me a letter next year, telling me if they've behaved themselves."

"I will, Santa," Emma answered, happily snuggling up on the couch, perfectly at ease with the world again.

Just seeing the girl relaxed and happy again confirmed his suspicions of how scared she must have been and he felt oddly humbled at being able to ease her worries, even if it came at the price of wearing the most ridiculous and hideous outfit imaginable. "All better now, dearie?" he asked gently.

"Mmm-mm…" Emma nodded, looking at him earnestly. "I'm sorry Santa… I just got scared… I thought my mom was going to leave me…"

"Oh Emma!" A split second later Mary Margaret had plopped herself on the couch, next to her daughter, hugging her tight. "Of course I'm never going to leave you, why would you think that?"

"Bae's mom did," Emma pointed out quietly and an uncomfortable silence fell over the room.

Suddenly the lump in his throat was impossible to swallow away and the familiar feeling of failure rose inside him again. He had managed to sort out the Nolan's mess, but he was unable to give his own son what he wanted: a stable family, the unconditional love of his mother…

But then there was Belle, crouching down in front of Emma, her one hand reaching out to grab the girl's hand in hers, gently tugging it to make her look up , her other hand on his elbow, her thumb rubbing his arm soothingly.

"She might have," her warm lit was soft and comforting. "But Bae still has his dad and he loves him so very much. And he has you for a best friend, so between the two of you, he's not alone, right?"

"Right!" Emma agreed, her genuine grin threatening to split her face. Disentangling herself from her mother's arms she launched herself forward, throwing her arms around the man sitting next to her.  
"Thank you, Santa!"

And all of a sudden there wasn't a dry eye in the room.

* * *

"You were _brilliant_!" Belle beamed at him as they made their way into the backroom of the pawnshop, thankfully unseen by anyone.

With a sign of relief he tore the hat off, trying to ease some of the stifling heat. Not that he wasn't rather pleased with the outcome of their little stunt, but he was more than ready to get out of the costume. He tried to pull the wig off as well, but only managed to pull it down a few inches before it got completely stuck.

"Come here," Belle grinned, standing up her tiptoes and bringing her hands to the sides of his head, digging her fingers underneath the wig to loosen up the velcro fastenings and her close proximity allowed him to inhale the scent of her hair. The smell of vanilla, the closeness of her body and the feel of her hands so close to his face were making him feel light-headed.

Still, after months spend in court, having to listen to Milah explaining in great detail what a beastly man he was, it was rather gratifying to have Belle looking at him like he'd just hung the moon.

"Well, I hope that at least this will cure Mary Margaret of her Santa fetish," he remarked, trying to alleviate some of the tension.

When she giggled in response however, his heart skipped a beat.  
"I wouldn't count on it."

She finally managed to take the wig off and he wanted to groan at the feeling of cool air around his head. Eager to get rid of the rest he started on the buckle of the odious belt.

"Seriously though…" he continued, rather to have something to talk about than anything else. "Please explain to me what the appeal is of a man dressed in this…" he looked down at the remainder of his costume in disgust, "…monstrosity."

"Well, I'm starting to see it now, actually," she replied off-handedly. It wasn't until his sharp intake of breath that she realized what she'd said and she blushed to the root of her hair.

He huffed in disbelief, at the same time reaching out on reflex to grasp her arm, preventing her from turning away from him.

"Come again?" he asked, his voice low and completely gobsmacked.

"Well…" Her cheeks were still flaming red, but she looked him steadily in the eye, refusing to break their gaze. "Perhaps he appeal isn't so much the costume, but the man underneath."

He blinked at her, his mind furiously trying to catch up to what she was saying, trying to gauge its meaning.

They were standing close. Even closer then before when she'd taken his wig off. He was still holding her arm, unconsciously pulling her close, all the while staring down in her eyes, their blue suddenly so much darker.

Then he became aware that her gaze had drifted down and that she was now staring rather intently at his lips. The scent of vanilla and something underneath that, something more spicy and alluring enfolded him, causing his mind to go blank.

Her hand was slowly sliding up over his arm towards his shoulder, pressing herself even closer against him and between the roaring in his ears and the yearning of his heart he was aware of little else than the way her eyelids fluttered close and her lips appeared more inviting than ever.

Lowering his head and closing the distance between them, the coil in the pit of his stomach tightened when his mouth was only inches away from her lips.

And then her nose wrinkled with a small sniff, a frustrated giggle escaping her. "It tickles."

Right. Because most of his face, especially the area around his mouth was still plastered with cotton wool.

He swore quietly, relaxing only slightly when she pulled him in an awkward hug, soft laughter ghosting over his ear.  
"All right, so much for the appeal of Santa."

It wasn't going happen like this, he decided. If he was going to kiss Belle French for the first time he would do so without fuzz getting in the way.  
If he was to hold her in his arms for the first time, he would actually get to enjoy the feel of it without an entire suit stuffed between them, making it impossible for him to make out even the slightest curve, even though she was all but plastered against him.

If the moment came when he was finally going to succumb to his long suppressed desire for her, if he was finally going to believe that she might actually return these feelings, he wasn't going to be wearing the world's most off-putting costume that left him sticky and sweaty.

So instead, somewhat regretfully, he brought his hand up and caressed her cheek lightly with the tip of his fingers, relief flooding him when she leaned into his touch instantly, her breath catching in her throat with a small hitch.

"Have dinner with me tonight?" His voice was rough with tension and he swore he could see her pupils dilating further.

"I'll ask the Nolans to watch Bae… call in that favor straight away…"

By now her eyes were shining and the happy smile curling around her lips sorely tempted him to crash his mouth to hers, cotton wool be damned.

But it would be worth the wait to woo her properly. To lavish her with attention like she deserved. To be wearing an actual suit.

"I'd love to."

* * *

**Merry Christmas everybody! **


End file.
